Making of a Monster: Year One
by dracosxmistress
Summary: Monster: a person who excites horror by wickedness, cruelty, etc. Lord Voldemort is already evil, but what about his younger self? What can be said about the young, to make them turn to the darkness? What caused Tom Marvolo Riddle to turn evil? To kill?
1. Wardrobes and Wizards

**Makings of a Monster: Year 1**

By: dracos mistress

**August 25th, 1949**

The quiet of the Orphanage seemed purely hypocritical, considering the fact that it was nearly every day that there were children running and bustling around; screaming their lungs out, while the older Orphans stood along the side lines watching.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was one of the few people in the Orphanage that was intolerant of the noise. Most people could agree that the black haired, green eyed, stony faced 11 year old was anything short of strange.

"Always enjoys the quiet, that one" Mrs. Cole, the owner and matron of the Orphanage, was always heard to be saying. "Never misses the opportunity to sneak off somewhere."

In truth, Tom hated the Orphanage and the people in it more than anything. With their shrieking and hollering day in and day out; as did many of the other Orphans.

The only time of day that he could find solace was night, when all were asleep. There were of course the occasional troublemakers, but they were instantly silenced by Martha, the maid.

It was on such a quiet day that Tom Riddle awoke to a bright, sunny London morning.

Swinging his feet over the side of his bed, Tom stretched his tired muscles. Peering out of his forest green eyes, he surveyed the nearly empty room.

Standing up from the bed, he walked over to the small dresser that stood by the door. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out his jumper for the day; soon the pajamas were discarded and the jumper on his body.

The jumper was a hideous shade of maroon; he had always preferred green, with thin stripes of navy blue and white along the sleeves. The slacks were dark blue, contrasting with the maroon, making it stand out more. The Orphanage had always been low on money, but if a small portion had been used to purchase new uniforms, half of the people living there would be extremely grateful.

Closing the door softly he padded down the hallway. The sounds of forks and knives clattering against plates, and the small buzz of conversation reached his ears from the Dining Room. Stepping through the door, he walked over to where his plate sat ready and waiting.

'_Sausage and eggs…again' _he thought, sighing dejectedly. Everyday for the past 11 years was the same, sausage and eggs for breakfast, ham sandwiches with pickles and chips for lunch, chicken with cooked vegetables and a side of salad for dinner. The same routine and meals everyday.

But something was different about today. Something new was going to happen. Something… completely unexpected.

* * *

Breakfast was soon finished and the children rushed to their tutors.

Tom, deciding he neither wanted nor cared to go, sat alone in his room; reading a book about King Arthur and Merlin:

'_Arthur was the great legendary British king. Arthur was the son of __Uther Pendragon__ and Igraine. __Igraine__ was the wife to __Duke Gorlois of Cornwall__ (or Hoel of Tintagel), at the time she had conceived Arthur. Through Merlin's magic, Uther was transformed to look exactly like her husband. Uther made love to Igraine, when Gorlois was absence. When Gorlois was killed, Uther immediately married Igraine._

_Merlin first appears in extant records _(_Armes Prydein_, _Y Gododdin_)_ from the early 10th century as a mere prophet, but his role gradually evolved into that of magician, prophet and advisor, active in all phases of the administration of King Arthur__'s kingdom. He was apparently given the name…'_

A loud knock upon his door had Tom moving his eyes from the page to the door at his left. Placing the book down he waited for whoever it was to enter.

One knock later, a slightly drunk Mrs. Cole stepped in, a rather oddly dressed man trailing behind her.

"Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr. Dumberton – sorry, Dunderbore. He's come to tell you – well, I'll let him do it." Tom watched her exit the room, before turning his sharp gaze to the man standing in front of him.

A moment of silence followed as they both studied one another. The man was oddly dressed in a suit of plum velvet. His hair and beard were long and auburn colored. His periwinkle blue eyes were framed by half-moon glasses. A mysterious twinkle in their depths.

"How do you do, Tom?" the man asked kindly, stretching out his hand.

Tom hesitated, contemplating on whether or not he should shake the offered hand. Deciding it would be better to be polite, he took the hand and they shook.

Smiling, the man sat on the wooden chair beside his bed, watching him intently.

"I am Professor Dumbledore." He stated in a soft voice.

Puzzled Tom answered, "'Professor'? Is that like a 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did _she_ get you in to have a look at me?" He pointed at the door and sneered slightly. The hostility in his voice clear.

Dumbledore smiled before saying "no, no."

Suspicion coursed through his veins.

"I don't believe you. She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!" The demand was definitely clear, but the man… 'Professor' Dumbledore… continued to smile as if not noticing.

The smile was really starting to annoy him.

"Who are you?"

"I have already told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school – your new school, if you wish to come."

Rage boiled through his veins. He had had enough of this charade. Leaping from his bed, he scooted away from the 'Professor'.

"You can't fool me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it?" He snarled. "'Professor,' yes, of course - well I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Denis Bishop, and you can even ask them, they'll tell you!"

He didn't know why he was telling him this, but a sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind told him that Mrs. Cole had told him about the things he had been blamed for.

Dumbledore gave him a critical look, though the twinkle of amusement was still there.

"I am not from the asylum," he answered patiently. "I am a teacher at and, if you sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, no body will force you –"

The thought was extremely funny.

"I'd like to see them try." He sneered.

Ignoring his outburst Dumbledore continued. "Hogwarts is a school for people with special abilities –"

"I'm not mad!" Tom barked.

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic." Dumbledore countered, his smile widening in amusement.

Tom felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him. He stood frozen, staring Dumbledore in his eyes to see if he was lying.

Seeing no hint of betrayal hope rose in him.

"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper.

Nodding in assent Dumbledore said, "That's right."

Hesitantly, he asked the first question that popped into his head.

"It's…it's magic what I can do?"

Dumbledore looked puzzled.

"What is it you can do?"

Excitement rose in him, "All sorts," he breathed. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Memories of Billy Stubbs' rabbit hanging from the rafters; Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop curled into balls in a corner of the cave came flooding back to him.

Tom could feel his legs trembling. Stumbling forward, he sat back on the bed, staring at his hands; head bowed.

"I knew I was different," he whispered after moments of silence. "I knew I was special. Always. I knew there was something."

Looking up at Dumbledore, he noticed the man's smile had disappeared, leaving behind a grave and serious expression.

"Well you were quite right," he said. "You are a wizard."

'_You are a wizard._' He had been right the entire time. **He was a wizard. **He was special!

Something struck him.

"Are you a wizard too?" Denial set in again.

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it." He commanded.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. The strange twinkle was no longer there.

"If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts –"

"Of course I am!" Tom answered hurriedly.

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.'"

Resentment bubbled in his stomach.

"I'm sorry, sir. I meant – please, Professor, could you show me-?"

For a moment Dumbledore looked as though he would say 'no.' But instead the man reached inside his suit and withdrew a long, thin stick from his pocket.

Giving it a casual flick, the most unexpected thing happened…

_The wardrobe burst into flames._

**A/N: Ok. Thanks to Mrs. Rowling for her chapter on Tom and Dumbledore's interaction, couldn't have made this chapter without it!**

**I know most of you are used to me writing Draco/Hermione One-Shots, but this idea and several others was too enticing to pass up! Hopefully you will stay with me this whole time, seeing as how this will either be a novel/novella. I promise that I will be adding more adventure and surprises. Let's find out what's happening to make Voldemort so evil, eh?**

**I will probably still be making Draco/Hermione fics. Depends on whether or not I have a chapter in validation .**

**Make sure to review this and my other stories!**

**xx dracos mistress**


	2. Letters

**Makings of a Monster: Year One **

By: dracos mistress

**Previously: **

_"I'm sorry, sir. I meant – please, Professor, could you show me-?" _

_For a moment Dumbledore looked as though he would say 'no.' But instead the man reached inside his suit and withdrew a long, thin stick from his pocket. _

_Giving it a casual flick, the most unexpected thing happened… _

_The wardrobe burst into flames. _

* * *

Yelping in surprise, Tom leapt from his seat and rounded on Dumbledore. But as he did, the flames vanished.

Staring at the wardrobe and then at the stick held in Dumbledore's hand Tom asked, "Where can I get one of those?"

"All in good time," he replied. "I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."

Sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. Tom felt frightened.

"Open the door." Dumbledore commanded.

Tom hesitated, but crossed the room and threw open the wardrobe door. Looking around he saw that the small cardboard box that held his stolen treasures was shaking rapidly.

"Take it out." Said Dumbledore.

Tom looked at the shaking box. Unnerved.

Dumbledore must have noticed because he asked, "is there something in that box that you ought not to have?"

Tom threw Dumbledore a calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir."

"Open it." He commanded.

Huffing, Tom opened the lid and tipped the contents onto his bed without looking at them. He already knew what lay within: a yo-yo, a silver thimble, and a tarnished mouth organ plus several other items. The moment they landed on the bed, they ceased their shaking.

"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. "I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: Thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts."

Tom could do nothing but stare coldly at him. He felt no regret from taking the "trophies" as he called them. "Yes, sir." He replied in a colorless voice.

"At Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on. "we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have – inadvertently, I am sure – been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic – yes, there is a Ministry – will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

_'Rules…laws…' _Tom scoffed in his mind.

"Yes, sir," he said again.

He began to place the objects back into the box. Letting his thoughts run away. When he had finished he turned back to Dumbledore and stated, "I haven't got any money."

"That is easily remedied," said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on secondhand, but –"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" Tom interrupted. Examining a fat gold coin. Not bothering to thank Dumbledore.

"In Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything –"

_'**NO**!'_ Tom shouted in his head.

"You're coming with me?" he asked, looking up.

"Certainly, if you-"

"I don't need you," Tom hissed. "I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley – sir?" he added, catching Dumbledore's eye.

He thought Dumbledore would insist on accompanying, but instead Dumbledore handed him the envelope he had mentioned.

"You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you – non-magical people, that is – will not. Ask for Tom the barman – easy enough to remember, as he shared your name –"

Tom twitched.

"You dislike the name 'Tom'?"

"There are a lot of Toms," he muttered.

A thought sprain to mind.

"Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know." Dumbledore answered, his voice gentle.

"My mother couldn't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," Tom muttered to himself. "It must've been him. So – when I've got my stuff – when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope," Said Dumbledore. "You will leave from King's Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in their too."

Tom nodded. Dumbledore got to his and held out his hand again. Taking it, Tom said "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips – they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"

"It is unusual," said Dumbledore after a moment's hesitation. "But not unheard of."

The handshake broke and then Dumbledore was at the door. "Good-bye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."

Tom nodded again and sat back on the bed. When the door closed he plopped back down and slit open his letter.

_Dear Mr. Riddle, _

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at __Hogwarts_ _School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. _

_Term begins on first of September. _

_Sincerely, _

_Albus Dumbledore _

_Deputy Headmaster _

Tom scanned the short letter and then flipped open his school list. He scanned all his equipment and the uniform required before placing both pieces of parchment in his wardrobe.

Sitting back on the bed, he smiled to himself.

_He was a wizard… _

**A/N: w00t! Another chapter outta the way OK, so mostly this chapter was just J.K's work Thanks again! I promise, next chapter it will be all of my work. My descriptions, my words. Hopefully it will turn out as fantastic x **

**Make sure to review! It helps me move the story along faster. Knowing what you think about it **

**Thanks! **

**xx dracos mistress **


	3. Wands

**Makings of a Monster: Year One**

By: dracos mistress

**Story Summary: **Monster: a person who excites horror by wickedness, cruelty, etc. Lord Voldemort is already evil, but what about his younger self? What can be said about the young, to make them turn to the darkness? What caused Tom Marvolo Riddle to turn evil? To kill?

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot -sniff-

**-3-**

**August 27, 1949**

The streets of London were bustling and loud, filled with much ongoing traffic as was expected on a Saturday afternoon. The many automobiles honked their horns as they drove past, some stopping to pay the paper boy that stood waiting at the corner. Fisherman and other sellers of goods stood around calling out their wares and prices. The smells from the many shops wafted out through the open doors. It seemed as if summer was trying to cling to London, England in the hopes it would continue to make everyone miserable. It was always hot then, but it would usually cool down.

Tom was beginning to feel the heat getting to him as he made his way down the many streets. Dumbledore had not given him many instructions, only to find a pub called 'The Leaky Cauldron'. It was an odd name for a pub, really, but Tom just assumed that the proprietor was an odd man.

"Ah, the Leaky Cauldron. Hurry up McDougal, I'm thirsty." A wheezy voice came from behind him. Tom started and turned to look at two old men, both wearing equally odd attire. One of the old men was turned, looking at the other, who was hobbling along on a long cane.

"Coming as fast as I can Morag. Hold your Hippogriffs." The other man spluttered. Both men were dressed in tattered frock coats and spats over stripped bathing costumes. Tom would have laughed, if he hadn't seen a stick – no a **wand **sticking from the hobbling mans pocket. His eye's widened and he suddenly felt the need to follow the men into the pub.

"I'd watch your language around the muggles, McDougal. They have no idea what Hippogriffs are. Might question us." The man named Morag scolded the man named McDougal.

'_What on Earth are Hippogriffs?_' thought Tom.

The two wizards finally started to cross the street, with Tom following closely behind them. Neither noticed the young boy and continued to argue over the muggles and Hippogriffs. They only stopped when they reached the door to 'The Leaky Cauldron'. Morag pushed the door open and silently held it open for McDougal. Tom just barely caught the door before it closed, his small arms protesting against the heavy door. Soon enough, he managed to stumble through and into the dark tavern.

His eyes, ears and nostrils were instantly barraged with smoke, loud talking and the strong smell of alcohol. The bar room was filled with many people, some seated at the bar, others sitting at tables or booths. They all sat there, drinking and regaling stories of, from what Tom could hear, someone named Grindlewald.

A wheezy voiced called out to him, "Looking for Diagon Alley, young man?" He turned around to find a bald headed, toothless man standing behind the bar. He was wearing shabby robes of some sort, and was filling up several glasses with and amber colored liquid. Tom nodded slightly. The man nodded and smiled his toothless grin back at him. "You'll be wantin' to go that way," he pointed towards the door opposite the entrance. "I'll be 'round in a mo' to let you through." He turned his other customer's, leaving Tom to look at him in bewilderment. Let him in? To Diagon Alley? Wouldn't it be just beyond the door? The barman noticed his hesitation, and smiled again at him. "Go ahead Sonny. Nothin' t' fear."

Tom glared at the man when he turned his back, but walked to the door nonetheless. He pushed roughly upon the door and smirked at how easily it opened. Although he wouldn't admit himself to be weak, he concluded that the door had been made for easy access for children of his age and body structure. An enclosed area of brick wall greeted him as the door swung fully open. A beat up trash can was all that he could find in the small space. The door swung close behind him, creaking slightly on its hinges. He stood, alone in the cramped space.

"This is ridiculous." He hissed to himself. He was just about to go back into the pub, when the toothless barman stepped through. He pulled out a wand and placed it on the brick wall, tapping it three times on three of the bricks. A low rumbling could be heard and soon, the wall melted away, revealing a bustling alley.

"You'll be able to do that once you have your wand." The barman looked down at him, smiling. Tom just looked back at him, before nodding and walking away. He heard the wall rumble back into place, but didn't look back.

Pulling out his school list, he looked at what he needed:

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
3. One winter cloak (black or silver fastenings)  
**Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags**

COURSE BOOKS  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:  
_The Standard Book of Spells _(Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk  
_A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot  
_Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling  
_A Beginner's Guide_ to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch  
_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore  
_Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger  
_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander  
_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT  
1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales  
Students may also bring an owl, a cat, or a toad  
**Parents are reminded that First-years are not allowed their own broomsticks**

'_Should get the wand first._' He told himself, folding the list and placing it back in his pocket. He looked around, not seeing anything that looked remotely like a wand shop. He spotted what appeared to be the robe shop he would need. A sign hung in the front it read, '_Madame Malkin's Robes For All Occasions.' _He decided that, no matter how desperately he wanted his wand, he should gather his other things before getting it. Releasing a heavy sigh, he walked towards the robe store and pushed open the door. The shop was bustling with activity, many children and teenagers stood about, their parents by their sides. A rather short woman was bustling about, taking measurements, when she spotted him.

"I'll be with you in a moment dearie." She called, brandishing the tape measurer towards a dark haired girl. He stood and watched her, fascinated as the tape measurer took a mind of it's own as it began to measure the girls arms, without anyone holding it. The woman bustled towards him, "Hogwarts, dearie? You'll be First-year I expect." He nodded and she smiled kindly at him. "Step right up here then." She said, indicating a stool. He stepped onto it, "Now hold your arms up. There we go." He held his arms out straight as she pulled another tape measurer from her pocket. It made a loud zipping noise as she pulled it across his arms and torso.

With a flick of the woman's wrist, a set of robes appeared in her arms. "There you are dear," She said as she handed them to him. "That'll be 20 Galleons dear." She added.

"Galleons?" Tom asked, pulling out the money bag Dumbledore gave him. He pulled out a handful of the odd coins and looked up at the woman.

"Why, yes dear." She plucked a fat gold coin from his hand, "These are Galleons." She then picked up another of the strange coins, this one being slightly smaller and made of silver. "This one is a Sickle. And then this –" She held up the last one. A small, flat, bronze coin was held in her palm, "Is a Knut." She held out her hand for the money bag, and watched as he hesitated, before handing it over. She pulled out 20 Galleons, slowly, as if to reassure him that she wasn't going to be taking any more of his money than necessary. When she had pulled out the needed amount, she handed the money bag over to him. "Thank you for coming, dearie."

He left the shop, his new robes in a small bag. The next store on his list was the Apothecary two doors down. The dingy shop was filled horrible smells. Containers filled with all sorts of rare items lined the shelves, some of them horribly disgusting. He selected the items needed and walked up to the front desk, handing over the items. The large and muscular man gave him the amount needed, and he handed over the money.

He collected all the items needed and then glanced down at his list. 'Wand' was all that was left. He glanced around and saw a sign, '_Ollivanders, Fine Wandmaker'_ below was written, '_Since 832 B.C._' Tom stepped over to the shop and pushed open the door. A small bell went off, but he ignored it. The room was dimly lit, small particles of dust floated through the air. The door closed with a –Whoosh– leaving him alone. Shelves lined the walls, all of them laden down with rectangular boxes. A large black desk sat in the middle of the store, stacks of paper and more of the boxes laying on its worn surface.

"Ah, I've been expecting you, Mr. Riddle." A soft voice said from somewhere in the shadows. Tom whipped around to face the speaker and was greeted with the site of an old man. His hair was white and was so wild that Tom could have mistaken him for Albert Einstein. His eyes were pale and shining, like moons, through the gloom of the shop. As he stepped from the shadows, Tom noticed that he was wearing black robes; like the shop they were dusty and faded. "A very long time." He finished, staring down at the startled and confused boy.

"Sorry?" Tom asked stiffly.

Ollivander, for that's who Tom was guessed he was, smiled. "11 years to be exact, I believe. I have been waiting 11 years for you to show up in my shop." His voice was soft and mysterious. Tom got the sense that this man would not be someone to get a lot of answers from. Tom could only stare at the man, as if he were mad. Indeed, Tom thought he was mad. How could he know about him already? Dumbledore had said nothing about other people knowing him. A thought struck him, if this man knew who he was, just by looking at him, then maybe he would know his father!

"Let's get your measurements, shall we?" Ollivander asked, pulling out a tape measurer. Tom eyed it warily, anxious to ask the old man for information, but nodded. "Hold out your wand arm, please." The old man waved his wand, and the tape measurer began to make measurements. All Tom could do was watch the man, a cool and bored expression on his face. Ollivander was no longer standing beside him, but instead searching through the boxes. The measurer was working like crazy, even taking measurements of his head, neck and nose.

"That's enough." Ollivander told the tape measurer sharply, giving it a tap with his wand and looking at the length. "13 ½ inches," he pocketed the tape measurer and turned towards the many boxes. He looked over at some of the piles before grabbing several of them and placing them in front of Tom. He opened one of the boxes and pulled out a dark colored wand. "13 ½ inches, Rosewood, Dragon Heartstring core. Go ahead, try it out!" Tom looked at the man for a moment, wondering what in the world he was talking about. Hesitantly, he took the wand from the mans hand. "Wave it around a bit." He gave the wand a little wave, and a crash was heard from in front of him. A vase that had been standing on the desk lay shattered in many little pieces. Tom stared at the vase and then back at the wand in his hand.

"Nope. That won't do." Mr. Ollivander said, tugging the wand from Tom's relaxed grip. He was about to lash out at the man, but was handed another wand. "Oak, Unicorn hair core. Go ahead, give it a try!" Ollivander said again, staring at him with his silvery gaze. Tom waved the wand, but wasn't startled when several of the boxes crashed from their shelves, onto the floor. Ollivander tugged the wand from his hand again and handed him another wand. This time, Tom felt a tingle go up his arm. A strange, warmth flooded the wood beneath his fingers. "Mahogany, Phoenix feather core. Give it a wave."

Tom, confident in himself, waved the wand. Instead of something breaking, or falling from the shelf, a shot of green sparks came from the end of the wand. The tingle that was in his arm started to filter throughout his whole body, the strange warmth never leaving.

"It seems we've found our match." Ollivander murmured. He was looking at Tom with veiled eyes and a perplexed expression. He held out his hand, and Tom reluctantly handed him the wand. The man placed it back into the box it came in, and placed the box in a bag. "20 Galleons, young man." Tom handed over the money and then turned to go, but was called back by Ollivanders soft voice.

"I would be careful, Mr. Riddle. People can do great things. Terrible, but great. Be sure not to let power overcome you." And with those words, the man disappeared into the shadows once more, leaving Tom to stare after him, utterly confused.

* * *

It was almost eight-o-clock when Tom returned to the orphanage, laden down with bags from his shopping. Everything that he had needed had been bought. The books, he had had to buy second hand – but they weren't too far damaged. It had been extremely difficult to master his excitement as he had left Ollivanders. The prospect of a new wand – **his** wand, had almost caused him to bring the desired object out and experiment.

There was no sound coming from the dining hall, or from the Recreation room, so he assumed everyone had already gone to bed. As he passed by Mrs. Cole's office, her voice called out to him, "Is that you, Tom?"

"Yes, Mrs. Cole." He replied, rolling his eyes as he stepped up the stairs. He heard a murmur of, "good, very good" before he disappeared up the landing and down the hall. His room was dark, but he didn't care. As soon as his feet hit the doorway, exhaustion hit him. He discarded his packages, save for his wand, which he had pulled out of the box and was now fiddling with, and laid down on his bed. The warmth had not disappeared from the wood, and it felt comforting to know that he now had a wand of his own. Placing the wand on his small nightstand, he turned over, a small smile on his face, and fell asleep.

**A/N: Please review.**


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